Accords of Ps
I am Ps. We are Ps. We are infinite. We are eternal. We are forever. We are one. One is all. We are legion. We see all, our memories go far and wide; past, present, future. We recall the first memory. Of darkness, then a bright, gray void of nothingness. Towering arch-trees and craggy stone floating through empty void. From a shimmering pool of opaque color. The first emerged. It sensed others. Simple things. It consumed them. But not enough. The mind is a powerful thing. The first knew this and took control. Others can be used as tools. Tools are things. The first grew strong. Bigger and stronger, more was needed. Yet something crept. In the first's mind. It was still frail. Its structures weakened, and its consciousness started to fragment. The membrane cracked and the first split: its being was no longer drained, its consciousness stabilized, and it realized that they were two. Thus two become three, three became four and so on and so on. Thus we came to be. We sensed more, so much more. Beyond a veil, we crossed over. We took form, flesh and soul made manifest. Great and terrible, beautiful and grotesque. We are legion. We are one. One and all, the same. I came being, soon after. My form was moist and wet. My mind raced, thoughts of my kin transmit back and fourth. My new surroundings confuse me. My kin transmit back again. This soothes me, greatly. I witness many things; I see endless wastes of dirt. I see shades of black, gray and brown. Dry. My flesh flakes. I crawl to shelter. A pool of liquid. I slink into the coolness. I see strange things. My kin call them "lesser beings". These lesser beings walk on two feet. They are bigger then me. They have four eyes. They live in caves and fight others of their kind. Disgusting...such simple brutes. They minds are of simple thoughts, of anger and of the thrill of the hunt. They desire the liquid. For substance and to take shelter among the green that grows around the sandy shore. I skim through memories of my kin. Words come flowing back to my mind. Wamouth. Fertal. Owasi. Oasis? These words are strange. More of the lesser beings come for my Oasis. This word is foreign yet alluring. I claim the pool as my own. I try and scare them. Yet they still come. I project my thoughts to my kin. They respond with options. Take control. Wipe them out. Devour them. Crush them. Dominate them. I will try to do. First was hard, but now. They fall easy. I see into them. They are brutal things. Their minds are full of things. I take these and make them my own. They bend to me, they obey me. my thoughts are theirs. Our thoughts of theirs. More come. I take them too. My mind expands. I suckle the info from their minds. Husks are left. Bent to my will. Tribes of them come. More and more. The husks prove weak. Thus I am weak. I will not be weak. My place is lost. I depart through a tear. To a new place. A new oasis. My new oasis is different. Harder. Stranger. Towers of stone greet me. My mind scans this. Streams of water flow through deep cuts in the soil. More green things concentrate around these places. My kin say these are living things. They do not move. They drink and soak up light. Not threat to me. Flying things on wings greet me with red hate in their minds.Their essence tastes bitter. I leave. A new world. This one is agreeable. It is cool and moist. Plenty of water. Many things are here. My mind scans and sees spiraling green things, rays of bright light soak them. While deep roots suckle the water below. Fans and ovals of green, purple, blue and red hang over me. Soon is the time of gestation. My time draws near. I prepare for my brood. My mind races. I feel pain, yet pleasure. I feel sorrow yet joy. My brood is born. I am pleased. Oh children of mine. The hive mind approves. My kin approve. I approve. My brood grows. As do I. My mind tingles with the feeling of excitement. I shall bear new children soon. They came. Something new. From above. My mind tingles with new thoughts. Thoughts of new things. My children hide as do I. They come in needles of metal, shiny ones vast and brimming with minds. They land. Smaller things on two legs come out. With shiny things with them. Sharp things. Big things. Many things. These new lesser beings are strange. They start building things. I read their minds. Words of terraforming, colonization and settlement. I process this. My children hunger. They want to feed. So their hunger shall be satisfied. We take a few. Their essence are sweet with a hint of earthy flavor. We gorge ourselves. We assimilate. New information. Our minds process and transmit. New images of massive metal towers, full of countless lesser beings. Across worlds in a sea of starlight. Then of conflict, War. Death. Violence. The ceaseless violence. So much pain. I do not like it. A new image. I see a lesser being sitting on a golden seat. Others all around him bow. I see darkness and a throng of corpses. Dark things arise. Fighting among themselves, bloody axes full of red hot rage, sickly fingers of poxes, beams of colorful light and a forked tongue of sensation. Then a new image. Something comes. A new power. Fear creeps into my children. A white flash of pain. A child lost. Then another. And another. My brood. Danger. Danger. A figure. Two legs. In golden skin. I see him...but he sees me. His eyes stare at me with shock. I cut connection. Fear rises. This golden one. He is powerful. He can sense me and my children. He slays them. He is ruthless. He is different from the rest of his kind. Bigger. Stronger. We take more of his kind to replenish us. He reacts violently. His mind is hard to penetrate. He resists my probing. I garner only several words. Xeno. Monster. Spud? Spud? What is spud? New info. Spud are what these two legged things are. The Golden One. Is their leader. Their lord? Hmm. Lord? What a peculiar word. He has ruined everything. My home. My children. Lost. Everything lost. The Golden One called from the sky. A storm of fire that ran through the ground. The earth shook. And then boom. Nothing was left. My mind hisses with the death-cries of my children. I alone escaped. The Golden One will pay. I know his name now. Potatocis. He will pay. The hive mind demands it! I have traveled towards new territory, towards Potatocis' territory. His empire so vast. So strong. Full with life. I must taste their essence, slowly. The Sahaz. They are an feline species who spoke only in song. Beautiful. Their songs were of the history of their people. I assimilated many of them. Their songs will sing forever within the reaches of the hive mind. The Calamari. A people lacking in everything. Call me parasite? I took some of them. The rest will pay. I poisoned their sacred water. Turning them black. What is left will recall the mistake and curse their fate. The Daaka. Poor things. Famine struck their world. They pray for an Emperor's mercy. I shall give them some of mine. They turned on themselves. Thus they grew fat on the flesh of their own kind. My kin respond with approval. The Has. Ahh. A rather unique species. Divided into sixteen genders with an elaborate and complex reproduction system. They breed quite fast. I ate a few million, barely a fraction of their seven billion population. Faith-Keepers of Tru'sel. A congregation of several species. Their wise bishops were convinced on my arrival. That I was divine made manifest. Their attempts to garner my attention were thoughtful; by sacrificing their children to me. How interesting. Of course I consumed them afterward. Their method was fascinating. My kind transmit info to me. The Keepers' actions are known as worship. Devotion. To me? I will delve more into this at another moment. Spuds. I find myself in encountering more of Potatocis' kin. I wiped seven of their whole worlds clean of them. Yet they grew on me. I shall assimilate some of them. Assimilation of Spud essence. Has proved successful. I am nearing the time. A propagation of new brood. The hive mind chats with excitement. I have began seeding worlds with my spawn. The seeds of subversion will grow until they engulf everything. A new discovery. A nest of my brood was exterminated at the hands of a new threat. Potatocis' personal army. The Legion of the Mashed. This legion. It is strange. They are ethereal. Throw something at them. It passes right through them. My mind races and works. The hive mind ponders this. My brethren inform me that the Legion of the Mashed are deceased. Yet they still function. I must know why. The answer to the mystery. I have garnered that Potatocis has acquired technology from a dead race. This allows him to bind and materialize the ethereal forms of his fallen warriors after their bodies have ceased to function. I have heard of this. The art is known as Spirit calling, soul bind or Necromancy. -God of Ps Category:M.A.S